When the house was standard and wide, made

When she pushed the big gates open, the touch of
the iron bars were as cold as ice. She could feel
the bumpiness of the old cobbled path beneath her, they were smooth unlike the
crunching of the odd dead leaf that she stepped on. Carrying on the path the dead,
dried up grass carried on forever. One individual Oak tree stood by the house
blowing in the wind, she could hear the faint whistle as the wind blew by. The incandescent
moon was the only source of light that could be seen for miles. Owls
occasionally heard by overhead, their shadows passing over the grass. The air
was cold and with every breath she took a foggy exhale followed.


As the house drew closer everything around her
became quieter, more distant and spookier. The trees whispers couldn’t be heard
anymore and the cold iron gates were far in the distance. She could not hear
the owls anymore and there were no leaves on the ground, just some old concrete
steps, and a doorway that she stood in front of.

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From the outside, the house was standard and wide,
made from old wooden logs. Plants grew up the house, wrapping around the pipes
waiting for any sunlight to reached this abandoned place. The windows shook
from the whistling wind, as though they were going to fall out of the frames which
were being eaten away by wood worms. Some plants stood next to the door, once
for appearance now brown, positively dead. The door was unshut probably for decades,
or someone had recently entered.


Once she was inside she saw pictures of important
rich people, with their eyes following her every move. To her left was an old
wooden stairway leading upwards, each step looked frail and worn that if she climbed
up them she would fall right through them. To her right were two more rooms,
which looked to be a kitchen, from all the kitchenware left out and a dining
room, to the right of her was the lounge area. It had large bookcases on each
wall stacked with thick books covered in dust everything in the house was
coated in dust. There was just a couch, two chairs, a fireplace and no TV. The
smell of charcoal from the fireplace had spread around the room blocking her
breathing. The chairs and couch were made from a maroon material, once soft and
comfy now disintegrated. On the floor was a black and dusty grey carpet, dirty
from the charcoal and destroyed at the sides from mice under the couch.


As she entered the kitchen she could see the
moonlight through the windows casting a reflection on the wall opposite. Mugs
and plates were on the surface stained by tea and dust. The taps wearied down
and layered in dirt and dust, still dripping into the sink and every time a drop
fell the sound travelled around the house.


By the time she was done looking in the dining room
and upstairs the owls had died down as well as the wind, the moonlight started
to brighten to a warm light yellow colour, indicating to her that she had been
out all night and into morning. She liked being out at night, it gave her time
to soak up the silence so she could be left alone with her thoughts but since
the morning sun began to arrive she had to head back home.


I'm Harold!

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